The Truth Hurts, Lies Hurt More
by December Writing Dragon
Summary: Russia and America use any means to get some alone time. The company is beyond compare, but the means they use take their toll. Sometimes, secrecy just isn't enough. But first they need to be honest with themselves. RusAme oneshot.


"That's enough already, you two!"

America and Russia needed to be pulled apart. Again. The others had tried all sorts of methods to get through a meeting without some sort of conflict. They adjusted the seating arrangements, laid out very specific rules for when anyone was permitted to speak, set time limits, anything and everything they could think of, yet always there was some sort of scuffle. And each time, they would adjourn the meeting for a thirty minute break, after which everyone would return far calmer than they had been before. Their discussions were able to be far more productive after that, but all the same, it would be nice to get through without this silly cool down period.

America scowled through the sleeve he had pressed against his split lip, glaring at Russia as the taller of the two pinched his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Alright, everyone, take a break. We'll start again in a bit," Germany grumbled.

And so they dispersed, wasting no time in muttering about the spectacle they had just witnessed. Russia was already out the door, for once ignoring the concerned questioning of his sisters. "I would like to be alone," he muttered, though America saw how his fingers had taken to toying with the end of his scarf. America had Russia's tells sufficiently mapped out, and vice versa; it was easy for one of them to tell when the other was lying. Russia tended to fiddle with his scarf and shift his left foot rather restlessly. America would drum his fingers against whatever surface was nearest, whether it be a table or his own arm, and lick his lips.

Ignoring the icy glare Belarus was sending his way, America eyed his watch, counting, waiting…

There.

As if a switch had been flipped, America set off, his steps purposeful as he traced a path through the familiar halls. It was rather deserted here, everyone else congregated in the original conference room, or else the nearby lounge. There was very little reason to come down this way. And yet…all the reason to…

Last door on the right, and he was there.

The door to the storage room creaked slightly as he slid it open and slipped through. Inside, Russia sat atop an overstuffed box of cleaning supplies. Upon seeing America, he tugged the tissue he had stuffed in his nose out with a wince.

"I thought you were going to pull your punches?" he asked playfully.

America rolled his eyes. "You wasted no time returning the favor," he pointed out.

"So I did…" Russia's eyes locked on to America's cut lip, harboring an expression America could not quite place. "Shall I kiss it better?" His expression was one of pure innocence.

America gave a snort, leaning down. "Might as well fix your mess."

Their lips met. Russia tasted copper against his tongue as he traced the cut he'd left minutes before, America shivering as the wound brushed against Russia's chapped lips. With practiced ease he slid over so his lips were now kneading the flesh just below Russia's ear. The action earned him a content hum as Russia dragged his fingers slowly through America's hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

With no small degree of reluctance, America pulled away, wishing he had a camera to capture the breathless scorching look he was receiving as molten violet bored into sparkling sapphire. A shaky laugh escaped him. "We really need to stop meeting like this."

"It is what works though," Russia countered, his arm snaking around to pull America back.

"I mean- ah," America broke off as white hot kisses were planted down his neck. "I mean, we can't keep doing it like this." At the startled look Russia through him, America delicately brushed his fingers over Russia's bruised nose. "Like this, I mean. We have to find a way to meet without all this bruising and garbage- fake or not."

Russia merely blinked owlishly, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

"Surely we can just make this work," he said at last. "Why fix what is not broken?"

"Look," America began, choosing his words carefully. "You may be able to settle, but I don't want this for us anymore.

Russia opened his mouth. Hesitated. Closed it. Opened it once more. His words were soft, halting, as if he were unsure he wanted to hear the answer. "Is it not…worth this?"

America sighed, nudging him to move over so he could sit beside him. "I mean, if we have to keep doing this, yeah, then fine, but we should give something else a shot. Maybe we don't have to resort to meeting in cramped cleaning closets after fights or whatever." He glanced sideways, but Russia was peering intently ahead.

"Do we need anything more beyond this?"

Something twisted deep in America's gut. For a moment, he could not even answer, so intent was he in wondering what this empty feeling was. At last, he said "Well, that would be nice, wouldn't it?" His lips felt numb. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. None of this was going how he'd wanted it for them. Everything was just a broken jumbled mess, leaving he and Russia no choice but to scramble to fit the pieces back together, all with no real idea of how it was supposed to look when all was said and done.

Mouth suddenly very dry, America forced himself to continue. "I'd like us to have more than this, yeah. I mean, think about it. We could be picking out restaurants together. One of us would pick the other one up. We'd drive over together. If we finished early enough, we could go for a walk in the park. If it started raining we'd share an umbrella. Then we'd head back to the hotel, to the room that had both our names on it, and just chill together. No more secrets. It could be so nice."

Russia tensed beside him, eyes wide. America slid from his seat so he was crouched in front of him. He felt Russia flinch as he clasped his shoulders, waiting until Russia looked up at him.

"This is madness you are proposing," he said hoarsely.

America shook his head. "Don't you wanna do any of that? Hasn't an of this stupidity made you want more? I…I don't know about you, but I'd love to. Don't you wanna do those things with me? Do you…do you love me?"

Russia's gaze flicked about the cramped space, but always they came back to rest on America.

He shook his head rather jerkily. "No. No, of course not, this can never go beyond what it is, how would any of that work, why even bother, you should never have even said such things," he rambled.

America's misery lasted but a second before he glanced down. Russia's hand was balled into a fist around his scarf, winding and unwinding it around his hand, thumb rubbing at the frayed edges.

Now it was America's turn to be stunned into momentary silence.

"You lied to me," he said at last, casting another look at Russia's hand. Russia immediately released the beloved garment, but the damage was already done.

"We have something good going now," he said. "Why risk it?"

"It could be worth it," America said, suddenly feeling giddy. It wasn't those three words, not outright, but it was all the confirmation he needed just now. "It could be so worth it. And if it didn't work out- come on, man, we'd find a way to resettle back to something that does. We got this far. We're two pretty powerful countries- this shouldn't be too hard for us."

Russia was once again not looking at him. Elbows resting on his knees, fingers carding through his hair, his gaze was locked on the floor as he gave a long-suffering sigh. When he looked back up at America though, it was with tired amusement dancing behind his violet eyes. "This is going to be such a mess," he said.

America laughed- he could not help himself. Throwing his arms around Russia, he could only grin and say "You won't regret it, babe."

"Mmhmm," Russia said in a noncommittal tone, returning the embrace. "So, when and how do we tell the others we are returning from a fist fight with dinner plans?"

That threw America for a loop. "I…don't know, actually. I kinda hoped they'd be so relieved we wouldn't ruin the meetings anymore they wouldn't are," he said shrugging.

Russia rolled his eyes, straightening up. "How very like you. So, where are you taking me for our date?"

"Uuuh…where do you wanna go?"

"Somewhere my arteries will not clog. My heart gives me enough trouble already."

"Your heart falls out, dude."

"Exactly. I cannot afford any more problems," Russia said, laughing. He paused, apparently steeling himself. "It has also for some reason fallen for you, so…"

"Love you too, big guy," America said, his eyes still dancing, but his voice tender. He placed a chaste peck on the corner of Russia's lips, delighting in the faint blush painting his cheeks and the pleased little smile tugging at his mouth. Still none of those three little words yet, but America knew he would hear them eventually, without a trace of the lie he forced himself to tell earlier. And he couldn't wait.


End file.
